


The Promise of Tomorrow

by TuppingLiberty



Series: TLIb AU August 2018 [6]
Category: Captive Prince - C. S. Pacat
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Auguste (Captive Prince) Lives, Christmas, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Past Child Abuse, Regent still abuses Laurent, consent talk
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-06
Updated: 2018-08-06
Packaged: 2019-06-21 19:52:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,285
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15565212
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TuppingLiberty/pseuds/TuppingLiberty
Summary: AU August Day 6: Two years after confessing to his family and the police that his uncle abused him, Laurent still feels raw and broken at Christmas.AU Yeah August first came from this blog: https://lnc2.tumblr.com/post/174925809860/au-yeah-august. I decided to make my own calendar of prompts using this wonderful blog post: http://perfectlyrose.tumblr.com/post/101118660910/au-prompts-masterlist-of-lists. I randomized the lists, then pulled a prompt from each list for 31 days.Today’s prompt is from the list:  http://themultifandomnerd.tumblr.com/post/113819364961/rivalry-to-romance-aus . The prompt is: Just got caught under the mistletoe with my arch-nemesis and now everything is slow changing between us AU





	The Promise of Tomorrow

**Author's Note:**

> Damen and Laurent aren't really enemies in this fic, so much as they have some obstacles between them being together.

There’s something insipidly bright and cheery playing, like how all Christmas music sounds to Laurent, to be honest. The songs are everywhere, like an invasive species, and Laurent would just rather not, thank you very much.

The music is making his headache pulse behind his eyes, and he takes another sip of scotch to try and drown it out.

His lip curls as he watches Damen dance around with his niece. Perhaps Laurent should be the one playing with Anne, as her uncle, but Damen is much better with her.

Laurent has always resented just how well Damen, as Auguste’s best friend, fits in with the family. Much better than Laurent himself.

Though Auguste still loves him. Probably.

He finishes off the minuscule amount of scotch and turns away to the kitchen to exchange it for water. Getting drunk at a family celebration is a one-way ticket to disaster, he’s learned. Painfully.

It happened at Christmas the first time, he remembers. And things came to a head when Uncle R. looked at Anne with a certain gleam in his eye two Christmases ago. Because Laurent would be damned to hell if history would repeat itself. Not when he was a responsible adult, capable of defending himself now.

Still, Christmas time makes Laurent feel raw.

In the kitchen, Aurelia gives him a small hip-bump in solidarity. It’s not the first time Laurent has attended since his uncle’s arrest, and Aurelia and Anne are a part of that. Laurent wants to be a good uncle, he truly does. He wants to be the one that dances around with his niece in the living room as snow falls outside and the Christmas lights twinkle.

Sometimes he misses when Anne was a baby, and could be satisfied by listening to Laurent read for hours on end. Often he feels too broken to love her as she is now, this beautiful bright ray of sunshine.

Better that she play with Uncle Damen, their other bright ray of sunshine.

As if conjuring them, he bumps into Damen, who has Anne up in his arms, at the doorway between the kitchen and living room.

“Uncle Laurent!” Anne squeals, making grabby hands.

Laurent gives Damen a small nod, and accepts her, hugging her to him as if he could transfer some of her liveliness, her light, to him. She’s got the de Vere white-blonde hair, though it curls like Aurelia’s, and right now, it’s back in pigtails. She lays her head against Laurent’s shoulder, looking up at him, and then her eyes widen.

“Uncle Laurent, Uncle Damen, you’re under the mista toe!” She points up and both Damen and Laurent’s eyes follow her finger, where a small bunch of mistletoe is indeed hanging from the doorway.

Laurent feels his mouth press into a thin line, his heart rate picking up. He takes a breath, unsure how to explain to a 4 year old that he’s not going to kiss Uncle Damen, when-

“You still have to ask, love, even with mistletoe. What do Papa and Mommy say about if others want to touch you, or hug you, or anything like that?” Damen murmurs, giving her a small smile.

“That I don’t have to if I don’t want to.”

“Exactly right,” he replies, and she beams. “So…”

“So you and Uncle Laurent don’t have to if you don’t want to.”

“Perfect.”

She looks at Damen expectantly. “Are you going to ask, then, Uncle Damen?”

The golden brown of Damen’s cheeks turns a dark red. “Uh-”

The piece of Laurent that always defaults to snark is tempered by Anne’s presence, so he doesn’t retort, “Yeah, Uncle Damen, are you going to ask?” like he wants to. Instead, he hugs Anne in his arms. “Miss Anne, may I kiss your cheek?”

She gives it a long consideration as Damen sags a little in relief and Laurent tries not to be offended, or relieved, or feel anything. Finally, Anne cheats out her cheek and taps it. “Yes, Uncle, you can.”

He gives her a light kiss, and she looks expectantly at Damen again, tapping her other cheek. He complies, and then Laurent sets her down and she’s off and running again.

“Sorry, I-”

“You needn’t have acted like I’m a leper or something,” Laurent mutters, pulling out his phone to check social media as a defense mechanism.

“Laurent-”

Laurent growls, flicking away Damen’s excuses with his hand. He flicks through Twitter, though he’s not really reading anything. He expects Damen to move away, dismissed, but Damen just leans against the door jamb.

Eventually, still not looking up from his phone, Laurent whispers, “It’s so tiring, people thinking they know what’s best for me. It happened to _me, he_ did it to _me,_ so I’m the one who should- I’m the one who gets to make decisions about what’s best for me. You’re not protecting me by not playing along with a stupid request from a child.”

Damen chews his lip. “I thought it was important to teach her-”

Laurent tsks again, waving his hand in a dismissive gesture. “Of course it is.”

“I’m sorry.”

“I don’t need you to be sorry, I need you to _get it.”_ Frustration wells inside Laurent, because it’s a fool’s errand. No one is going to get it, ever, except him, and Uncle.

Damen just nods his head, though, a determined look on his face, like he’s going to make it his life’s work to get it, because that’s how Damen operates.

“I’ve got a headache. I’m going to head upstairs. We’ll see you for presents on the first?” he asks because Damen had been raised in a Greek Orthodox household. Laurent turns away, figuring he’s made his point as well as he can.

“Laurent, wait-” Damen’s fingers don’t grab at him, just ghost over his sweater enough that Laurent stops. Once he does, Damen’s fingers are gone, in a ball at his side instead. “I’m sorry that I don’t get it. I just- I don’t know how to- How do you get over the rage?”

Laurent raises his eyebrow. “Rage?”

“I could kill him. Slowly.”

“And then how would Anne feel, with beloved Uncle Damen in jail?”

Damen’s face morphs into a grimace, and he shakes his head. “You don’t know why I would do it, do you?”

Laurent rolls his eyes. “Of course I do, Damianos. You’ve long been a believer in truth, justice, and the American way. You still think that life can be _fair.”_

“That’s not why.”

Laurent looks up, meeting Damen’s eyes. “Then why?”

Damen edges a little closer. “Uncle Laurent, may I kiss you?” he whispers, a ghost of a smile playing over his lips.

He doesn’t move again, though, giving Laurent an out. An out Laurent considers for more than a few seconds, before finally murmuring his consent.

Damen leans in, pressing his dry lips to Laurent’s forehead, his hand cupping Laurent’s face. The next kisses go to Laurent’s cheeks, and then his jawline, and then, like a dream, Damen has pulled back. “I know it’s complicated, Laurent. But I don’t think you’re a leper. Far from it. Haven’t for years, and I’m sorry I didn’t say anything sooner.”

Laurent licks his suddenly-dry lips, swallows against emotion welling in his throat. “Oh.”

“Goodnight,” Damen whispers, pressing one last kiss to Laurent’s cheek.

It’s an escape Damen is offering, and with a small smile tugging his lips up, he returns the kiss to one of Damen’s hot cheeks. Because there’s no rush. It’s not an ultimatum Damen is offering, but an opening. An opening he can maybe take.

“Goodnight.”

He leaves Damen there, with the promise of tomorrow and then day after that, and after that.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! If you like this, please check out my other stuff! :) Comments and Kudos are always appreciated.
> 
> Also feel free to join me in AU august. You are welcome to any of the prompts I use - would love if you leave a comment letting me know you wrote it so I can check it out!
> 
> Happy August!


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